


Nobody's Home

by Jh3richo



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Character Study, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Family Issues, Moving On, References to Depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-03-01 07:06:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18795400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jh3richo/pseuds/Jh3richo
Summary: When Fareeha made the decision to leave, she had no intentions of telling anyone.No one would notice if she left, she decided, no one would care if she slipped away.The silence, she thought, would be far better than the constant noise.





	Nobody's Home

When Fareeha made the decision to leave, she had no intentions of telling anyone.

Truthfully, there really wasn't anyone _to_ tell. The house had always been empty, and even when someone stopped by it was never for very long. She would receive the expected 'how are you?'s during the visits and as time passed she answered them less and less.

No one would notice if she left, she decided, no one would care if she slipped away.

So she did, leaving the house behind without any word. It wasn't her first time trying to leave, but that time she had left a note that had swiftly been found and used to stop her. Learning from her previous mistake – as well as accepting that no one was ever coming home to her – Fareeha said nothing.

Her escape into the military wasn't easy, but she never expected it to be.

The expectations set upon her because of her lineage were near impossible, but she resigned herself to reaching them. Meeting expectations was something she was used to, something she had been taught from a young age. She learned that you either met them or you failed without a second chance. She refused to fail at reaching her goal again.

And she reached it, graduating from basic training as swiftly as one could and being deployed immediately.

It was what she always wanted, to achieve something on her own and prove to everyone that she could actually do it. Fareeha had the perfect vision of what it would be like, had fantasies about what it would feel like to have her dream come true.

When it finally arrived and she waited for the moment of respite, nothing came. She had gotten exactly what she wanted, but it wasn't even a hollow victory. It was just hollow.

Her whereabouts had been revealed before deployment; everyone she didn't want knowing about her knew everything. People extended themselves to her, finally wanting to _see_ her, finally wanting to _talk_ to her, finally wanting to _listen_ to her.

The hardest people to ignore were the ones so closely involved in Overwatch. Offers to meet with her to discuss a possible transfer or requests to take her out for lunch were never denied because they were never looked at in the first place.

To say that it hurt her to turn away the very people she dreamed of being with would be an understatement. Overwatch had always been her next step after the military. She had grand visions of walking up to her mother in an blue uniform and _making_ her see how important this was to Fareeha.

But time had jaded her and made her too bitter to imagine such a scenario without grimacing. Overwatch wouldn't save her, her mother wouldn't recognize her, and it was dangerous to dream.

She didn't want to hear what anyone had to say. Fareeha had long since given up on them, lost all hope and refused to acknowledge them just as they had refused to acknowledge her.

_'No one cared about me, so why should I care about them?'_ had become her line of thinking. They didn't truly care, she reasoned, otherwise they would have reached out to her sooner.

The news of Ana Amari's death changed nothing.

Everyone expected her to return, to leave her station and try to handle the fallout. Her decision to leave, to join the military, was no longer her own. It was warped by perception into some recognition of her mother's legacy and humbled duty to do good.

The very thing she tried to leave behind had come back to do much worse than haunt her.

Everywhere she turned, people were praising her. Not for her own achievements and drive, but for somehow honouring her mother by deliberately disobeying her.

Even in death, her mother had full control of her life and refused to relinquish it.

It enraged her. The lack of understanding was astonishing. She hadn't joined the military for anyone but herself, she didn't care about anyone else. _Especially_ her mother.

So Fareeha once again made the decision to remove herself from everything. What little contact she had with anyone was completely stopped without any further word.

The silence, she thought, would be far better than the constant noise.

Silence comes at a cost. It removes the ability to scream.

When you cannot scream, you cannot release the anguish building up inside. When you cannot be freed of pain, you break.

Fareeha was sinking further and further, overthinking more and more, drowning deeper and deeper. She was giving up, trying to just accept the lasting ache in her chest and void in her mind as permanent residents.

Dragging herself through every day became harder with each step. Everything she had worked for was ultimately meaningless. The life she fought for still wasn't hers.

The insistence for her to reach out to someone grew louder and louder by the day.

Fareeha had always neglected to write letters to anyone. The offer to write letters to loved ones was just that, an offer. The benefits of writing home to someone had been preached time and time again, that it was to keep a sound mind and remember who they were fighting for.

“Nobody's home.” Fareeha would say every time.

The direct order to write to someone came as no surprise, and Fareeha resigned herself to finally sitting down with a pen and paper.

It was generic, the exact template given to her with nothing in addition. Three bare and lifeless paragraphs about her whereabouts, health, and position were all she could muster. It didn't name anyone specifically or include any personal details, so the envelope could have been addressed to literally anyone.

She didn't care about it or anything else and it showed. She was tempted to leave the address line blank and push it through the mail slot anyways, but couldn't bring herself to do it in the end.

If it had to actually go to someone, the list of people she didn't want to receive it heavily outweighed the very few she'd be fine possessing it. The thought of it reaching anyone in her family, or what was left of it, wasn't one she wanted to entertain.

When she finally printed a name and address, she sat back and measured her decision for the last time.

They hadn't spoken since she was a literal child, so why would the recipient care? There had to be thousands of other, much more important documents and pieces of mail being sent to the address _daily_ , so what were the odds of her letter even being opened? It was bland and formulaic, so how would you send something in response to it?

Sealing the envelope and carelessly pushing it through the mail slot, Fareeha promptly chose to forget about it entirely and returned to her barrack to try and sleep.

Imagine her surprise, two weeks later, when she finds a neatly written letter in her hands.

She refuses it quickly, sure it belongs to someone else and had been mistakenly given to her. But front and center, written in messy cursive that was nearly illegible and unfamiliar, was her name.

Fareeha sat back and tore the letter open, her heart suddenly pounding as she raced to check the name at the bottom. Surely enough, the first words she read confirmed her fear.

_'Sincerely, Angela Ziegler.'_

It dumbfounded her entirely to receive a letter in response to her own. How Angela found anything to say back was as impressive as it was appalling.

Her own letter was rather basic, giving standard replies to the very standard information Fareeha provided. It was much longer in comparison, a heft seven paragraphs of tightly woven cursive that grew harder and harder to read with each word. Squinting at a sentence and trying to decipher it, Fareeha scoffed upon realizing it was Angela apologizing for her atrocious penmanship.

There was one thing Fareeha was looking for throughout the letter, gritting her teeth in anticipation of finding it.

One simple phrase, three words in total.

_'How are you?'_

But it never came. It made her sit back and stare at the paper in confusion, taking it all in again and sure she had just missed it somewhere.

But it wasn't there. Angela had forgone the cursed phrase in favor of wishing her well and hoping she was safe in her occupation.

It dumbfounded Fareeha. It made her hesitate and physically flinch when her first instinct was to pick up a pen and write back.

It was foolish to think that maybe Angela realized how terrible of a question it was to ask her. That maybe Angela could some how understand, from such a shitty and standoffish letter, how crushed Fareeha was inside.

Reasoning that it was only polite to reply and not letting herself get too giddy about interacting with someone after so long, Fareeha set about writing her own message. This time she would write freely, she decided, but would still withhold herself from becoming too familiar. She refused to risk getting close to someone again only to have them abandon her like the rest.

Another postcard followed her own, and so she sent another as a sign of good faith.

Then another came, so another she mailed. Then another. And _another._

It became a new routine that Fareeha was quite happy with. Every two weeks, the mail for her platoon would arrive. Every two weeks, she'd receive a new envelope from Angela with a handwritten note inside. Every two weeks, she'd dedicate at least an hour to replying and mailing her own.

It was so much easier to speak to someone without having to see them face-to-face, Fareeha discovered, and it was so much easier to admit to the empty feelings she had inside without having to say them out loud.

Loneliness, she discovered, wasn't something she was suffering from alone.

To her surprise, Angela could acknowledge her experiences and open up in return without trying to overshadow her. The doctor's problems were never greater than Fareeha's, nor were her feelings more important or more valid.

It was relieving and refreshing to be heard and understood. It was pleasant to have someone who she actually wanted to talk to about anything and everything.

It was, as sad as it sounded, nice to actually have a friend for once.

And when Overwatch fell and Angela was thrown to the wolves to testify against the organization, Fareeha had the opportunity to be a friend in return.

_'I'm afraid,'_ Angela told her, _'that I'm going to be alone again.'_

_'I would never leave you.'_ Fareeha scribbled back, considering her words and erasing them to rewrite them as _'I'm always here for you.'_

Her time in the military ended soon after. Her decision came after admitting to Angela how unhappy she was serving, how worthless and controlled she felt due to her mother's legacy. The encouragement from the doctor was the push she needed to seek discharge and escape from her long sought after freedom.

Helix Security was a prospect Fareeha never expected to last. The offer was one she shrugged at while accepting, certain that she would only stick with them until something better came along. But that didn't diminish from her goal of succeeding and making a name for herself on her own.

Her rise to the top took longer than it did while in the military, mostly due to no one trying to push her forward because of the Amari name. _That_ was freeing to her and drove her to work harder and become better than the rest.

And that was when she realized how much she enjoyed being the _best._ Between the acclaim and praise, the respect she received was almost addictive. Fareeha was the best Raptora pilot they had, the best under pressure and under fire, the best at quick thinking and the best strategist.

If people refused to listen to her, she would _make_ them hear her. She would do everything within her power and capabilities – which she had already established were far superior to anyone elses – to be in the faces of everyone who crossed her. Respectable or infamous, Fareeha didn't care about the opinions of the people who saw her so long as they had _seen_ her.

She knew she was the best. She didn't need the input of others when she had the skill and raw talent to back up her hot head and loud mouth.

What she wasn't the best at was slowing down or losing. She didn't care if one person didn't make it back from the mission so long as it was a success. She hated the number of failed missions on her personal record changing more than she hated having to find new squad-mates.

It wasn't until her encounter with Anubis that Fareeha realized how calloused she had become.

Becoming captain was just like graduating from the military all over again. It was something she sought after and sprinted towards, her shining achievement of recognition and well-deserved moment to finally slow down and breathe.

But it too was hollow. Her dreams dashed once again right after being dangled in front of her. It made her angry like it had before, but instead of submitting to it Fareeha let it drive her forward. She would change, she decided, and become better for the sake of herself _and_ everyone else.

In that time, her letters to Angela gradually became fewer and further between. Both were hard at work and trying to improve themselves, unable to spare but a few sporadic moments to communicate.

It was made easier when Angela revealed that she would be traveling to Iraq to do field work and could make herself available for calls and direct messages. The brief occasions when they could talk typically came late at night and were easier done over the phone.

Fareeha enjoyed listening to the doctor's voice as opposed to having to read her questionable handwriting, unable to stop smiling as she listened and totally enamoured with Angela's accented words.

Their conversations were the same as always, partially shooting the shit and partially discussing their well-beings. The only differences now were that Fareeha could actually hear Angela laugh at the jokes she made and she realized how small her own voice sounded when she talked about herself.

Both gave Fareeha intense feelings in her chest, the first making her feel lighter than air and the other weighing her down heavily. But it was doable and didn't deter from her enjoyment of their talks. It was still easier than trying to speak in person about the thoughts trying to drown her.

Easy became mildly harder when Angela had the idea to video call one night. It was just this once, Fareeha assured herself as she tried to quickly hide the mess of her apartment before answering the request.

To say it was awkward was an understatement, neither quite as confident now that they could actually see each other.

Finally, Angela lowered her head to her hands and laughed.

“What?” Fareeha asked cautiously, forcing herself to chuckle along.

“I don't know,” The blonde admitted with a goofy grin, “it's just so surreal. I know _you_ and you know _me,_ but we're acting so shy.”

“I can assure you, I am _much_ more inept in person.”

Angela laughed again at this, the sound coming from deep in her chest bringing an uncontrollable smile to Fareeha's face. She decided that she liked the sound quite a bit.

She also decided that she liked the video calls. They grew easier as time went on, just as the phone calls had, but were made even easier with every new thing Fareeha learned about Angela.

Like, for instance, that she smiled from one side of her mouth. It wasn't quite a smirk, more like a child-like grin that started from the right corner of her lips and would spread to the other side. It made it easier to notice when the blonde wasn't in as happy a mood as she assured she were.

Or that when she laughed and really meant it, it was that deep and rumbling sound Fareeha loved. It was goofy, throaty, and – when she was lucky – could lead into an even louder laugh that sometimes led to the doctor snorting. It was incredibly different than the nasally, bouncy giggle Angela would force when uncomfortable.

Or how when she would smile or laugh, the little wrinkles around her eyes that she tried so hard to hide became more apparent. Or how wild her hair grew from the humidity. Or the never fading shadows under her eyes. Or the way she would snore when she'd accidentally fall asleep mid-conversation.

Or how every new message from Angela made her heart leap, or the way she felt giddy like a child after talking with her, or the way she found herself dreaming of meeting in person and getting to actually be with her.

That was the thought that made Fareeha snap her eyes open and sit up in bed. She quickly corrected herself, confirming in her mind that she just wanted to see her dear friend and _nothing else._

_'Nothing else'_ she continued to assure herself through their chats.

It didn't stop her from entertaining the thoughts late at night when she couldn't sleep. Fareeha would imagine what they could become or what they could be, but refused to admit to herself how badly she loved the idea of being with Angela.

How badly she loved--

Forcing it out of her mind and hiding her burning face into her pillow, Fareeha willed the childish assumptions away. She couldn't get ahead of herself. No one had been so open with her or so understanding before and she wasn't willing to push the limit now.

 Everything she chased after ended in tears, so this probably wouldn't be any different. _'It's dangerous to dream'_ she reminded herself. She was happy enough to settle for what she had. That was enough.

And then, out of the blue, a letter appeared in her mailbox.

Fareeha studied the envelope carefully, determining that it wasn't from Angela. If it had been, she'd had told her about it. Strangely, there was no address, not even for her apartment where it arrived.

Opening it up and discarding the envelope, Fareeha turned the folded piece of paper over in her hands to discover her name written on one side.

It was promptly dropped to the floor as she stared at the Arabic script, everything within her going numb in the instant that she read her own name.

The letter was never opened. It was put back into it's envelope and shoved in the bottom of a box.

That night she declined Angela's calls in favor of crawling into bed early and weeping.

Fareeha refused to open it. She refused to think too much about it. She _refused_ to give her mother time that she never gave in the first place.

_Her mother wanted to talk to her._

After so many years of being pushed aside, forgotten, unwanted, now she wanted to offer herself to Fareeha. And what made it all so overwhelming and scary was how much Fareeha wanted to accept such an offer. Years ago she would have given anything to speak with her mother, would have loved to know her.

But that was years ago, and Fareeha didn't want to cry over Ana anymore.

No matter how hard she tried to ignore it, she always found herself coming back to the letter. Late at night or early in the morning, during the quiet moments she had to herself, traveling to or from mission points, speaking with Angela.

Every time Angela would catch her drifting off in her own mind and ask her what she was thinking about, Fareeha would deflect with a lame joke or a flirtatious quip.

She didn't know why, but the letter from Ana wasn't something Fareeha wanted Angela to know about. They had talked about so many personal things, so much about the other was known and they trusted each other with practically everything.

But Fareeha couldn't bring herself to confess about the envelope hiding in her closet. She told herself that it was just because she didn't want to involve Angela in a stupid scenario that she had already solved. In reality, it was just because Fareeha didn't want to reopen a wound that cut her so deep for so long.

The desire to keep sealed old wounds had been ripped from her when Fareeha returned to her apartment one night to find over fifty missed calls from Angela.

Scrambling to find her earbuds and not even bothering to change out of her workout clothes, Fareeha's heart pounded and her hands shook as she called back and waited.

Angela answered after the first ring, her face pale like she would be sick at any moment and eyes wide. She had forgone any sort of greeting, blurting out in a rush, “Overwatch is being recalled and they want me back.”

Fareeha blinked and slumped in her seat, trying to process the information and unable to speak. In her silence, the doctor had seemingly collapsed into a heap and released a painful sob. “Angela?” Fareeha gasped, leaning forward as if she could see her better through the screen of her laptop.

“Why do they want me to go back?!” Angela wept off-screen, “I did this to them! I _ruined_ them!”

“It wasn't your fault--”

“ _Yes it was!_ _I threw them all away to save myself!_ ”

Useless and unsure of what to say, Fareeha sat back and tucked her legs underneath her. She had learned through their conversations that whenever Angela became overwhelmed like this, it was best to let her calm herself and wait for her to continue.

Sure enough, the blonde eventually sulked back into view and wiped her face with the back of her hand. “I just don't know what to do.” She hoarsely said, “I thought I had escaped all of that. I just want to be free from it.”

“I know what you mean. More than you realize.” Fareeha said sadly, her gaze drifting behind her laptop screen and to the door of the closet. Maybe she should tell her...

“I don't know if I can face them again.” Angela continued, her voice growing stronger as she spoke. “I thought this guilt would fade over time, but I can't shake it now. I said and did so many terrible things to them I-I...”

She trailed off into a new sob that made Fareeha's heart squeeze. Now wasn't the time for her to dump all of her problems, not when Angela was so torn up.

“If they want you to go with them, I don't think they're holding a grudge.” Fareeha mentioned, testing the blonde's reaction to her words before continuing, “Maybe they feel as guilty as you do. It's not your fault that everyone backed out of speaking to the UN. They made that decision for you, and you deserve to be hurt by that as much as they deserve to be hurt by your words. They didn't give you a choice, An.”

“And how hypocritical of me now to accept such an offer.” Angela laughed humorlessly. “The world didn't need trained soldiers or mass-produced weapons before and it doesn't need them now.”

“No, it doesn't. But it could use a brilliant doctor with an admirable desire to help others.”

The blonde looked at Fareeha with a critical eye and slowly asked, “Do you...think I should accept?”

“I think you should do what you think is right.” Fareeha replied, “Whatever that may be. Running off and illegally joining a reformed organization? Go for it. Staying put and continuing your work here in the middle east? We could definitely use the help. I'll support you no matter what you do, you know that.”

Angela was quiet then, her brow furrowed in deep thought and her eyes glued to Fareeha's face. Her expression didn't change at all as she asked in a small voice, “Would you go with me?”

Fareeha blanched and felt a sudden rush of adrenaline into her head. “Really?” Was all she could manage out, her own voice shaking.

“Yes. I'm sure they wouldn't mind if I brought some extra help along and I...I could use a familiar face.”

Giddiness filled Fareeha's chest at the words and she couldn't hold her grin even if she tried. For an offer she had refused once before and had given up on entirely, she was far more excited at the prospect of joining Overwatch than she anticipated.

And not only that, but she'd get to be with Angela.

Her leave from Helix was one that was hard to shake, mostly because everyone would offer whatever they could to her to get her to stay. They were practically on their knees begging her to keep her position, and it went straight to Fareeha's head.

She feigned disinterest in their pleading until they finally offered exactly what she had been waiting for. She'd return and bring it back after her 'personal time' was finished, they all agreed. It was so satisfying to pack up the Raptora Mark VI with the rest of her belongings, smirking with pride at knowing that it was _hers._

Excitement had full control when Fareeha boarded her flight for Gibraltar. The time was spent daydreaming about what it would be like to land at the Watchpoint. Mostly, the time was spent imagining what it would be like to finally see Angela in person.

Overwatch, the organization, had become an afterthought. She didn't consider what kind of work they would be doing or how they'd do it, nor did she think through the consequences of the recall.

Overwatch, the people, was all she could think about. Her fondest memories of her youth were with them, they were the lifeline that she clung to.

She wasn't after honour or glory at reviving Overwatch. She was only after the long sought-after feeling of coming home.

When she did arrive and found herself in the main hanger of the base, a wave of anxiety overcame her.

It seemed like everywhere she turned, there was something near that seemed so familiarly unfamiliar. Like at any give moment, her mother would walk out of a door and scold her for being where she shouldn't be.

For a place that she had long dreamed of seeing, of being apart of, Fareeha felt out of place and small. She was starting to remember why she had tried to forget all about this years ago.

It didn't help when the others came to greet her, everyone bombarding her with questions about herself and offering long-awaited condolences for her late mother.

With every firm hug and friendly smile, the pressure on Fareeha's back grew. The smiles she returned were becoming harder and harder to force as a gnawing voice in the back of her mind plagued her.

' _You don't belong here...'_

Everyone had welcomed her like she had been gone on a weekend trip, not like she had shoved them all away almost a decade ago.

Hadn't she given up on them and rejected the very idea of being with them? Why were they being so forgiving to her? Had they forgotten how she treated them?

The laughter and love surrounding her felt like it didn't belong to her, as if she were intruding and standing in someone elses place.

Fareeha realized who that someone else was when Reinhardt mentioned on a whim, “You look so much like your mother.”

She had to walk away after that, unable to bear being around everyone anymore. She was a stranger to the place and the people who were – in her mind at least – suppose to be her true home.

_'Ungrateful.'_ Fareeha told herself as she put her back to everyone and wandered the empty halls.

This was familiar to her. Silence, apart from her own footsteps, and rooms void of life. This was what the home she remembered was. As hollow as the abandoned Watchpoint and as hollow as her chest.

She didn't deserve their forgiveness after what she did. She abandoned them without a word, and they deserved better.

Maybe Fareeha was no different than her mother after all.

Her new quarters didn't make her feel any more comfortable, not even as she unpacked all her things. During her unpacking, Fareeha had mistakenly reached into the wrong box and produced the cursed envelope. Her progress had been halted as she sat on her new bed and considered the letter.

The inner turmoil at deciding what to do with the thing was eating away at her mind. Combined with the strain already put on her unwittingly by everyone else, Fareeha could feel herself wearing thin.

The immediate response to the feeling was to recoil from anything and anyone. It was what she had always done before and all she knew how to do now.

She succeeded in keeping everyone out and keeping everything inside her hidden away until Angela arrived.

It had been two weeks of reclusive behavior that the others had taken as normal for Fareeha. She had grown so used to being alone while surrounded by people again that seeing Angela sent her hurtling further into confusion and pain.

When the doctor arrived in the hanger, she was all smiles and laughter at the welcome wagon waiting for her. She apologized again and again for being so late, that she had too much work to just up and leave without finishing first.

“Fareeha?”

The call caught her off-guard. She glanced over from her position at the back wall and locked gazes with the blonde.

Fareeha pushed herself off the wall in time to catch Angela in her arms, not expecting the other woman to launch herself at her and taking a few stumbling steps backwards to regain her balance.

She melted into Angela's arms, bringing her own up to return the gesture and finding comfort in the motion. She hid her face in blonde hair and released air she hadn't realized she were holding.

Fareeha couldn't remember the last time she had hugged someone; this was addictive. The heat of another person so close, the feeling of relief and safety at having arms around her neck, her own arms tightly clinging in return.

The warmth in her chest returned and spread from her ears to her toes. It was like hearing Angela laugh for the first time all over again or watching her smile. It made her giddy and want to jump up and down and run and laugh and cry all at once.

This was familiar to her. This was comfort and understanding. This was nostalgic and loving. This was what she was expecting to feel when she arrived.

_This_ was what coming home felt like.

“I'm so happy that you're here.” Angela whispered to her, squeezing her tighter. Fareeha didn't reply, her hold growing shakier and shakier and her throat closing.

The blonde seemed to know immediately that something was wrong and pulled slightly away to look Fareeha in the eye. Her hand moved to rest on the side of Fareeha's face and she asked without flinching, “What's wrong?”

Neither were expecting Fareeha to break down as an answer.

Angela tucked her closer in response and urged the others to give them space. Too lost in her erratic breathing and violent sobs, Fareeha barely noticed that she was being guided out of the hanger and back into the Watchpoint.

“It's okay,” Angela repeated to her as they made their way into Fareeha's quarters, “you're safe, Fareeha. I'm here now.”

She seemed to fade in and out of lucidity, not quite passing out or falling asleep but forgetting to keep her eyes open. Fareeha let herself be settled comfortably in Angela's lap and held as the sudden emotion dwindled into weaker and weaker tears and sniffs.

“Sorry.” Fareeha slurred out while wiping her face with her shirt sleeve. She then added with a feeble smile, “I told you I'm more inept in person.”

Angela only laughed and shook her head.

They stayed together for quite some time, refusing to leave one another.

Fareeha finally pulled herself from the blonde's arms to throw the closet door open, her heart pounding in her chest and her ears ringing as she dug past clothing and boxes to find the thing plaguing her mind.

She had to find it quickly, she told herself, before she lost the courage and mental fortitude.

Angela sat back quietly and watched her scramble to find the letter, waiting patiently for her to turn around and explain.

When the letter was brought into the light and presented, there was no explanation given as Fareeha broke once again. Not as bad as before, but still unable to control herself.

She felt weak and disgusting as she cried into Angela's embrace, trying to hide herself away and disappear like she had before.

“I'm here, Fareeha,” Angela said, “and I'm not going anywhere.”

The time it took to recover wasn't as long as the first, but Fareeha couldn't help but continue to cry through her shaky retelling of receiving the letter and how she treated the thing. Words tumbled out of her mouth about how disoriented she felt emotionally upon realizing it was from her mother.

“You should respond to it.” Angela told her while holding the letter.

“I haven't even read it.” Fareeha rasped, her throat and eyes sore.

“You don't have to read it to reply. Just write what you think you should. Write what you're feeling. It doesn't even have to be to _her,_ either. It can be to anyone.”

Angela considered the paper in her hands for a moment before setting it aside and looking to Fareeha with a half-smile. “I've found out that writing helps me understand what I'm feeling when I started writing to you. Maybe it can help you too.”

They moved slowly, taking their time as the searched for paper and pen among Fareeha's belongings. By the time both had been discovered, Fareeha was beyond reluctant to sit down. It was the same as her time in the military, writing was only an _offer_ and _suggestion_ , thus making it much more difficult.

“You don't have to do anything now.” Angela spoke while running a comforting hand across the dark haired woman's back. “Just whenever you think of something to say, write it down.”

“How do I know when I'm done writing then?” Fareeha scoffed.

“You'll know.”

Fareeha struggled to understand what Angela meant and stayed awake late into the night staring at the blank piece of paper. Frustrated and tired, Fareeha growled and moved her pen to jot down her first words.

The ' _how are you doing?'_ was empty and she hated herself for writing it, but she resisted the urge to cross it out or throw the whole thing in the trash. She supposed it was the 'polite' thing to ask first and had grown so used to having to answer it herself that she didn't know how else to begin.

The paper soon became forgotten in favor of restless sleep, and then forgotten again in the morning in favor of grabbing breakfast with Angela.

It was forgotten more and more as their new team began their work and took on new missions. It was forgotten as Fareeha found herself growing more comfortable around the others and felt more apart of them.

The laughter and smiles they shared with her she could return and genuinely mean them. Their stories and jokes she could listen to without hesitation and share her own in return. There was a pleasant heat in her chest when they'd laugh along with her. She didn't have to show off or ruin herself trying to get their attention. They would _always_ willingly listen to her.

It was the tiniest of gestures from them – like asking for workout advice or wanting to discuss mission plans – that made Fareeha feel like she finally belonged.

When her mind would wander back to her incomplete letter, she'd ponder what she might add to it. How the team made her feel now was something so important that it just had to be included. Her mind would drift during the quiet moments, trying to decode what she was feeling in the moment and focused on figuring how best to phrase things. Fareeha would sit quietly and create the letter in her mind only to forget everything when she'd pull out the paper itself.

It wouldn't matter though, because the paper would once again be forgotten and left behind in her room. She couldn't think about it, not when she found herself privileged enough to spend her time with Angela.

Fareeha would never tire of being with the doctor, nor would she stop touting about their relationship. Angela was much more reserved and discreet when it came to their coupling, something Fareeha could understand but enjoyed teasing her about.

Angela was perfect in her eyes: beautiful, brilliant, clever, caring, snarky, sexy. Fareeha was beyond lucky to have her, and would smugly remind everyone of that. It was never that _she_ wanted _Angela,_ but that _Angela_ wanted _her._ The blonde would blush and plead with her partner to dial back her cheekiness. Arrogance, however, was practically Fareeha's middle name.

Her haughty attitude was reserved only for when they were around their teammates. When they were alone, Fareeha longed for time to themselves simply because she treasured those quiet moments so much more. It was difficult to do so at the pace the doctor worked, always running from one thing to the next and working far too much for her own good.

But it made the nights they spent together taste sweeter. The mornings were always the best and worst. Worst because it meant they'd had to rise from their bed at some point and separate to do their respective duties around base. Best because Fareeha would always wake first and get to cuddle for longer.

Angela would always indulge her even in sleep, mumbling drowsy 'good morning's and 'I love you's as she snuggled back. Fareeha would only grin in return and pull her closer, sighing at the tenderness of the moment.

These were also moments when she'd think about what to write. Her words would be syrupy and sugary, mushy and over-sentimental, passionate and corny. If she were to finish the letter after their shared mornings, she was fairly certain the entire page would be the words 'I love you' repeated over and over in varying tones.

When Fareeha sat down before the paper for the final time, she tried to recall all the things she had thought of before.

It hadn't been after a day of intense battle or mundane troubles. The day, by all accounts, had been a rather boring one. There wasn't anything that sprung to her mind, no current memory that could give her any sort of direction.

Lost and stuck rereading her opening line, Fareeha repeated the words to herself quietly.

“How are you doing?”

She was great. Better than she'd ever been, in fact.

She was doing work she loved. She was making a significant difference in the world. She had a loving partner who was incredible beyond words. She was surrounded by such amazing people.

Fareeha finally had a _family_ again. Fareeha had fallen in love with _life_ again.

She was happy, not settling with what she had and _happy enough,_ but _happy._

And remembering who the letter was originally for, Fareeha's eyes grew damp.

She wished that they could have been happy together, that whatever joyful memories she still had of her mother hadn't been corrupted. She wished things could have ended differently. She wished she could have gotten to love her mother. She wished she could forgive her.

The pen moved carefully, her expression somber.

_'I just want to say, from the bottom of my heart, that I'm sorry.'_

A tear rolled down her cheek and dotted itself on the paper beside her pen.

She wished she could apologize for all the trouble she caused. She wished she could show her mother how far she had come.

She wished she could show _everyone_ how far she had come, apologize for all the trouble she caused _everyone._

Fareeha started to write but paused, her pen pressing into the paper firmly as she considered her words. So many thoughts flitted through her mind, jumbling over one another in some fight to be jotted down.

_'You treated me with such warmth and kindness – I broke promises to you over and over – I've finally realized what you meant – I never thought I'd see you again – I didn't think I'd want to see you again – I'm sorry I was so lost and broken – I put you through so much – you put me through so much – I just wanted to be good enough – you never even gave me a chance – I miss you – I don't even know you –'_

Her hand gently lifted to make a soft stroke on the paper, her eyes tracing her previous line subconsciously as she wrote.

_'From the bottom of my heart, I love you.'_

Fareeha placed her pen aside and stared at the letter, blinking through more tears as she delicately folded it in half and placed it into an envelope.

The door to Angela's office was open when she reached it, but she knocked on the door-frame anyway.

“Oh, hey!” The blonde greeted with a bright smile, “I'm almost finished for the day, I promise.” Her smile faded the instant she looked up at her partner and Angela inquired calmly, “Fareeha, are you alright?”

The envelope was raised in response and she murmured out dully, “I finished it.”

The work on Angela's desk was pushed aside and she sat a little straighter, pulling her glasses off her face and motioning to the chair in front of her. Fareeha slumped into it and held the letter out, sighing in relief when it was taken from her hands.

“Do you want to mail it?”

“She never gave me an address.”

“You don't have to send it to _her._ You could send it home.”

Fareeha laughed bleakly and her voice cracked as she said, “Nobody's home.”

“Do you want me to read it?”

“If you want, I guess.”

“Do you think you'd feel better if someone did?”

“I don't know.”

“Do you want to destroy it?”

“I don't want to have to think about it ever again.”

“Okay.” Angela said while standing from her seat, “You won't have to.” She walked around her desk and pulled Fareeha out of the chair by her hand, looping arms with her and nudging her towards the door. “Lets go for a walk, then.”

Fareeha let herself be directed across base in silence, only raising an eyebrow as they entered the workshop area. Angela called something over to Torbjörn and Brigitte to which they both responded to in the same enthusiasm.

Stood in front of one of their forges, Angela grunted with effort as she pulled the lever to open the hatch and expose the fire inside.

She put the letter back into Fareeha's hand and took the other in her own, giving her a comforting squeeze and nodding to the fire. When Fareeha hesitated, Angela reached up to whisper to her over the roar of the flames.

“Whether you wrote it down or not, you've said what you wanted to say. You can't blame yourself for her mistakes, and you can't blame yourself for her not being here. I'm not asking you to let go, I'm asking you to keep going. And I'll be right here waiting for you when you're ready.”

The flames ate the letter in a matter of seconds, the paper vanishing completely after only a moment in the forge.

Fareeha let Angela wipe her tears away and pepper her cheek with loving kisses. “I'm proud of you.” The blonde told her, embracing her and humming other kind words.

“I don't think I'll ever get over my mother.” Fareeha confessed, “Or how awful I feel after everything I did.”

“I don't expect you to, darling. Know that in time those wounds will heal and scar over. It's just that mental scars are much harder to treat than physical ones. They'll ache every now and again, but it'll never be as bad as before.”

“I'm lucky to have you. I know I say it as a joke a lot, but I mean it.”

“I'm lucky to have you too. And I think I'll stay right here,” Angela said while tucking herself into Fareeha's side, “for as long as you'll let me.”

Content and relaxing into a newfound peace of mind, Fareeha leaned her head to rest atop Angela's.

“I think I'll stay too.”

 

 


End file.
